Farewell to Nigeria.
It’s been 3.5 months since I’ve been here.
Every day was a wonderful experience.
I’m now at the airport, on my way out.
My leg is now free of the cast.
Two days ago, they removed the POP cast.
The day before the removal of the cast, I went to see my artist friends at the potters’ village to say farewell.
They took Obaseki to a native doctor in Benin, straight from the police cell.
I ran into him about six months later when he was released.
His condition had deteriorated remarkably. He looked gaunt and shrunk. He must have lost about fifty pounds, (and he weighed not less than 175lbs and stood at 6’ tall when he assaulted Steve). His face had dark blotches and rashes all over it, and he moved with a stoop that made him look much shorter, as he gingerly carried his tray of food from the counter to a table.
I knew that he saw me as I entered the Ekewan campus cafeteria. But he quickly averted his face, pretending that he didn’t notice me. I went to the food counter to place my order. I decided I would surprise him by joining him at his table once I got my food.
I am pleased to announce the publication of an essay that I wrote in 2004–sixteen years later.
The journal is the INTERNATIONAL REVIEW OF AFRICAN AMERICAN ART.
The essay, on the work of Bing Davis, is titled “Flying Back Home.” I describe Mr. Davis as an “Afronaut.”
I did not use the term “Afrofuturism,” because that term was not even in theoretical usage at that time.
I was three years old. He just bought a bicycle and I asked him to give me a ride. It was already night.
He placed me on the top tube of his bicycle. Excited, I leaned forward and held the handles. He also held the handles with the left hand, and the saddle with the other, while walking and pushing the bicycle. I imagined that I was riding the bicycle. I looked up and saw the moon.
The Apomu Border Patrol Officer.
It was Iya Oyo who told me about the Apomu Border Patrol Officer.
Iya Oyo said, “When extended to the limit, when you have reached your breaking point, when you cannot go any further, you know what to do?”
When I arrived the United States in 1992 to start a doctorate at UW, Madison, I had only $98 in my pocket.
My professor, Henry Drewal, quickly came to my assistance. He immediately paid my school fees for the first semester, and gave me $1,000 in cash to start me off. Then he provided me with free accommodation in the posh part of town for the first year of my studies, while I found my feet.
Artist: Emeka Okoro
Title: Portrait of Moyo Okediji in His House
WHO CAN MAKE LOVE WITH ZOOM?
The Covid 19 scourge has created opportunities and challenges.
It has confined me to my house for the last 200+ days.
I doubt I would even know how to interact with people any longer. The only time I go out is to buy groceries.